


Tea Time with the Mathematician

by okrablossom



Category: 19th and 20th Century CE Female Scientists RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 07:55:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5489486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okrablossom/pseuds/okrablossom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five scientists from the 20th century help out a friend in the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tea Time with the Mathematician

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thorya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorya/gifts).



> A Treat for Yuletide 2015.

"Telegrams," Barb said, ripping open the paper. "Someone could tell her we've got these nice telephone things now, mid-twentieth century or something. It's like she's never worked with electronics before." Even as she scanned the oddly-capitalized note, Barb was aware of the wind between the rows of corn sneaking under her papers, her kernel samples, the immense heat unrelieved by it. "A vacation! I've got no time for a vacation. And what does Gracie mean, look up?"

Barb's neck craned back but the sky was perfect Missouri blue.

Until she saw the balloon. She could see a figure waving from the basket, in between pulls to open the vents and lower the balloon.

"Not in my cornfield!" Barb yelled but Martha—as she got lower, Barb could see it was Martha—just laughed and waved back.

"I'll miss, you just watch," Martha said as she landed the basket square on the dirt road back to town. The balloon, however, deflated into two rows of controls and Barb nearly cursed out loud.

"What are you doing in that ridiculous contraption?"

"Oh, I always wanted to fly a little. And hot-air balloons are so much more domestic than airplanes. Are Gert and Lis here yet?"

"What? No!"

There was a fizzing, a cartoon sound Barb had heard from the bits for kids when the pictures showed electrons orbiting atoms. So inaccurate. She looked where Martha was pointing and _saw_ the cartoons: simplified atomic structure in bright colors magnified to bizarre proportions. It was a bit like she thought about her genetic factors and she nearly looked away, embarrassed. Her head whipped back as Martha laughed. "She did that well."

Before Barb could ask, Lis and Gert were standing up from the bench next to one of her worktables and smoothing their skirts.

"You're traveling by fission now, Lis? That doesn't even make sense."

Lis waved her hand to dismiss Barb's comment. "You know, once the papers misprinted it as 'cosmetic physics' I realized it had a lot of applications I hadn't considered." She looked around, registering the corn stalks, piles of bagged and labeled kernels, microscopes. "It does make me hungry though."

"Don't even think about it." Barb turned to Gert. "A snack?" And Gert produced a sandwich, wrapped in wax paper, from her basket, smiling.

Barb's tone was sharp. "But why are all of you standing in my cornfield?"

Gert asked, "Didn't you get the note?"

Barb grumbled, waving the telegram.

Gert shrugged, "You could keep in touch better, you know. Actually write us every now and then---"

"When you aren't in the cornfield," Lis finished for her, between bites. "Like Ms. Carson. I do enjoy her letters, such a wonderful correspondent." She looked down her nose at Barb. "Even when she is in the field."

Martha made a noise in her throat. "Gracie wants to show off."

"What?"

"I think it's sweet," Gert interjected. "She's proud of her machine and wants to share it."

"What machine?" Barb began to wonder if she'd been too long in the sun.

There was a surge in the wind and Barb reached out to secure her most recent tallies. When she looked up, all the others were walking over to the metal cube settled a few feet from Martha's balloon. It was half again as tall as the tallest of them. Through the windows Barb saw gingham curtains. The door folded back and Gracie stepped out.

She let only Gert get close enough for a peck on the cheek but the others patted her shoulders and arms awkwardly. "So wonderful, Gracie!" "When did you finish, Gracie?"

"Gingham?" Barb's voice cut through the cooing. 

Gracie met her eyes, smiling, but her tone was cool. "They were what was at hand. And I hate to see what's outside when I'm traveling."

"Tell me again why all of you are here?"

"Aren't you happy to see us, Barb?" Gert's tone was wistful and made Barb stop and think.

"Yes, actually, I am. But—"

"No buts," Martha said. "You've already complained that we'll drag you away from your work—"

"But _your_ work—"

"Would improve if I took a break every now and then."

"Hear, hear," Lis agreed.

Barb swallowed. "Okay. So where are we going on vacation?"

"It's Hypatia," Gracie said, fidgeting with her gloves. "She's down."

"Down?"

"In a depressed fugue. She's got what amounts to an interview, back in those days, coming up. Lis thought we should pay her a visit."

"Talking with other scientists, especially women, helps me stay focused and excited. I simply thought she might appreciate it. And Gert has made—how you say?—cookies." 

Being the sugar expert, Gert dimpled and pulled a plate covered in plastic wrap from her basket. "Of course, I don't recommend she eat all of them at once, since I shudder to think what'll happen with her glucose levels, but, still they might cheer her up."

Martha added, "And you know how Hypatia's on every list. She's like the role model of role models. Safely dead and done. But that's no reason we can't give her a hand." 

They tromped into Gracie's time machine. The inside was as dull as the Mark I but Barb held her tongue. The curtains were the only color. There were no seats, only hand-grips.

Martha started to say something and a look from Gert stopped her. "Very nice, Gracie."

Gracie snorted. "Be useful. This cable into that relay. More division for traveling into the past."

Time traveled turned out to be entirely silent. Eventually Gracie gestured dismissively to the curtains and Gert peered out. "Oh, my," she said. "Lots of stone."

"Hypatia?" Barb regretted but couldn't cover up the excitement in her voice.

"Possibly," Gert replied but Gracie was already heading out the door.

The woman, crumpled into a painfully looking position as she scribed on a table, jumped up at the sound of their heels against the floor, but made no noise.

Lis pulled out a sheet of math fundamentals—a number line, Fibonacci, some nice graphs of conic sections—and walked slowly toward the woman to hand it to her. She took it, barely glancing down and away from the women.

Lis whispered, "We will not hurt you." She pointed at the paper.

All of them smiled—Gert wiped away a tear—when the woman broke into a broad grin. She pointed at something and made urgent, question noises.

Barb said quietly, "When we get back, we have got to find a linguist."

Gert whispered back, "Do you think there's one out there?"

"Oh, honey," Martha mouthed, "I'm sure there's twenty."


End file.
